Denouement
by daysandweeks
Summary: The downfall of Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy told in seven kisses. Including lyrics from "Samson" by Regina Spektor.


**A/N: **_For The Seven Kisses challenge at HPFC_.

Denouement

de-nou-ment (_dàynoo máaN_) **1. **a final part of a story or drama in which everything is made clear and no questions or surprises remain **2.** the final stage or climax of a series of events

_You are my sweetest downfall_

_I loved you first, I loved you first_

_Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth_

_I have to go, I have to go_

_Your hair was long when we first met_

1 **x** _almost confession_

They were on prefect duties—together, since they were Head Boy and Girl. She'd been writing avidly in her diary before they departed to walk around the dark school together, stealing glances at him in between sentences and he had pretended not to notice. Now, the corridors were quiet and the only thing keeping them apart was the cool yet humid late spring air that had seeped into the school.

She was thinking of telling him how she felt before it was too late. She wouldn't see him after Hogwarts. She wouldn't argue with him on a daily basis and then spend nights laying in bed, frustrated beyond belief. The thought was overwhelmingly relieving yet sad. She _had_ to tell him, really, and she was just about determined to when they turned around the corner and he suddenly drew her to him and kissed her.

He hadn't planned to kiss her but here they were. Her lips were soft and moved against his. He wanted to taste her and ran his tongue against the inside of her lips, begging for entry. They tasted like strawberries. He'd imagined her to taste like roses, though he didn't know what roses tasted like. Her lips were almost as soft as their petals, but were rough and tasted like copper in some places. She had the bad habit of biting her lip.

She didn't know how to kiss, but she kissed him back for a brief second before she became disgusted with herself and pulled away. "You have a girlfriend, Scorpius," she stated, practically glaring at him. She barely remembered the speech she had planned moments before.

He sneered, as she had to have known he would. "You're cold."

Rose wasn't sure if he meant her temperature or her emotions but guessed it was the latter. "I'm not," she insisted. She could, after all, still remember the feeling of his velvet-smooth tongue.

_Samson went back to bed_

_Not much hair left on his head_

_He ate a slice of Wonderbread and went right back to bed_

_And the history books forgot about us and the Bible didn't mention us_

_And the Bible didn't mention us, not even once_

2 **x** _goodbye_

She kissed him the second time. He was moving to sit with his friend on their last Hogwarts Express ride when she ran into him. They were both surprised when she held onto his hand and dragged him into an empty compartment, their luggage clasped in their free hand.

She slid the door shut once they entered it and he sat down on the bench, unsure what to expect. She placed her luggage aside but not up on the racks and he did so as well, realizing that this was just a short interlude in their day. He'd go on to sit with his friends. She'd go on to sit with hers.

"That was my first kiss," she admitted, her voice small. "And I really am sorry if I'm cold."

"You're not," he blurted out. "I'm just spiteful." After a few silent seconds, he added, "And not seeing anyone anymore."

She cleared her throat and crossed the room. "If that's the case…" Suddenly, she was standing very close to him. She couldn't believe what she was saying. "…then I should like another kiss."

Rose kissed him then, standing on the balls of her feet. Scorpius took her in his arms and kissed her back and moved to deepen the kiss before she broke away.

"I'm not going to see you ever," she said. "I'm going to be studying at Oxford. I've got it all set up. I haven't taken the proper exams but a Mr. Davies works there that is a Hogwarts alum and he sets these things up. So really, I'm never going to see you."

She exited the compartment, grapping her luggage as she went, and bit back the tears. He watched her go, biting back the confusion.

No one knew they had kissed. No one ever would. They themselves would probably forget it one day.

_You are my sweetest downfall_

_I loved you first, I loved you first_

_Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads_

_But they're just old light, they're just old light_

_Your hair was long when we first met_

3 **x** _reunited_

All the odds were against him—against them—but he found her dormitory that chill October night and she allowed him entry, surprised to see him with his sad grey eyes and quick words.

"I followed a girl in. That's how I got here. Said I had to see you and—"

"Why did you have to see me?" Rose interrupted, completely perplexed. This was a dream. She hadn't seen any of her Hogwarts classmates in three years. This had to be a dream.

"Because you were wrong," Scorpius said, leaning across her bed, upon which they sat, in order to grasp her hand. "You're going to see me all the time. You're brilliant—too brilliant. And now you've been away at university for these years and I've just been at these awful balls and dinners and _it's not worth it_. I don't care that I'm pureblooded or rich. I only care that I love you."

He kissed her and it was fierce, this love. She could feel it in his lips, in his hands against her breasts. He was demanding and she answered him, kissing him in the same fashion, loping her hands up the back of his shirt, nipping at his lips, relishing in the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive roof of her mouth.

He was the one to pull away, breathing deeply and saying that if they continued he would never stop. He couldn't have enough of her and he didn't care that the odds stood against them. The odds stood _with_ them too, the way he saw it.

She couldn't help but notice that his eyes didn't look grey but silver now and that they certainly didn't appear to be sad.

_Samson came to my bed_

_Told me that my hair was read_

_Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed_

_Oh I cut his hair myself one night_

_A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light_

_And he told that I'd done alright_

_And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light_

_And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light_

4 **x** _love_

He'd never said it before to anyone because he'd never felt it before. "I love you," he whispered to her the night she visited him, all red curls and smiles and wide eyes, at his family manor.

She'd smiled, surprised, then squeezed his hand and said in a voice that was entirely disarming, "I know. I love you too."

It wasn't just words for either of them. Later that night he kissed her in his childhood bedroom that was no longer very childish and they made love for the first time. She was nervous. She'd always been a late bloomer and had never done this before—just like Scorpius was Rose's first kiss, he was also her first lover. _He_ was nervous, too, for though he'd had practice in lovemaking it had never really been making love. It had been sex: always physical, never emotional, and almost shameful in the way it ended—either with him scrambling out of bed or chasing the girl away.

He loved every moment of that night but hated some too. The look in her eyes when she called out his name was wonderful but he knew it mirrored his own. She saw it in his eyes too and later that night, while drifting off, attempted to curl into him so that they would meld into one.

They both knew what they had, like any first love, was certainly too good to last.

_Samson went back to bed_

_Not much hair left on his head_

_Ate a slice of Wonderbread and went right back to bed_

5 **x** _routine_

It became a routine after some time. She was done with school now and he was well established in his circles.

At first, they ran home after work or obligations to make dinner and kiss passionately and converse. They fought more often than anything but it was a wonderful type of fighting that ended in either making love or laughter or sometimes both.

After some time, though, it all faded. They cooked dinner and talked and sometimes went out but it went bland at some point—not sour, but bland. It wasn't as if someone else had caught his eye or as if she had wanted something new. They simply grew a few years older, a few years wiser, a few years different. The passionate and forbidden love they had struggled to piece together during their final year at Hogwarts no longer seemed exciting. There was only one step left in their relationship—settling down—and neither was ready for that, or at least not with each other.

The last time he kissed her hello was on a Wednesday. Neither knew it would be their last hello kiss, but it was. He walked into the flat and kissed her quickly on the lips and asked, "How was your day?" and sorted through some letters an owl had brought and neither really remembered the kiss or what it felt like or what was said.

_Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down_

_Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one_

_And the history books forgot about us_

_And the Bible didn't mention us, not even once_

6 **x **_goodbye_

He sat on the couch like he'd sat on her bed at Oxford that evening and blurted the words out before he knew he wanted to say them. "I think we're falling apart, Rose."

Rose sniffed and for a moment both of them thought she was crying, but then realized she wasn't. "I suppose it is," she murmured.

They both were practical sort of people and didn't want to leave off with an argument, but it happened nonetheless when Scorpius stood up and headed for the door. "My God!" Rose cried, standing up, the tears finally coming. "Aren't you going to give this a try?"

Scorpius let out a sigh and then stared at his feet. When he looked up at her he was embarrassed that he was crying and she wanted to run to him but not as she had in the past. She wanted to comfort a friend, not a lover. "Because, Rose. Because we haven't fought for months. And I know that's typically a good thing but—"

"But it's not for us," Rose choked out.

It was obvious, really, that they had been immature. Good relationships weren't founded on the passionate hatred mixed with the passionate love they held for one another. They were built on genuine caring and respect and concern and similarities, but they only had the first three of these. They'd spent the past few weeks in a general state of routine because of this. There were no similarities between them and the differences they had had long ceased to be interesting.

"Well I guess…" Rose murmured, "I guess this is goodbye then."

She stepped across the room and kissed him lightly on the lips before turning and heading for the door. "I'll give you a few hours to get our things and move out."

It was over like that. She was gone. Scorpius touched his lips, missing the smooth-rough-softness of Rose's but more than that the passion with which she had kissed him on the Hogwarts Express, in her dormitory, and in his bed years and months ago.

_You are my sweetest downfall_

_I loved you first_

7 **x** _moving on_

She married first—a small affair in her grandparents' backyard. He was invited for they still kept in touch. They were barely friends, really only sending one another letters on holidays to catch up, but she'd felt the need to invite him. He deserved to be there, especially with his girlfriend, a lovely slip of a girl from America that he'd met while vacationing in Italy, and she deserved to have him there as well.

They were over one another, really and truly, but no one forgets their first love.

"The ceremony was beautiful, Rose," Scorpius told her when he finally was able to congratulate her. Though the party was tiny it comprised of many of Rose's red-headed relatives who had bustled about her for the entire day, leaving Scorpius few opportunities to see her. "You look beautiful. I'm so glad to see you happy."

She smiled and touched his cheek. "I'm happy to see _you_ happy." She gazed off at the American girl who watched on, clearly a bit perturbed at their contact, but smiling nonetheless. Rose was newly married, after all, so she posed little threat.

He kissed her chastely on the lips, not caring who looked on, before pulling away from her touch. "Thank you, by the way," he said.

"What for?" Rose asked, perplexed.

Scorpius shrugged. "You loved me first." He stared over Rose's shoulder at her new husband whose back was to them as he danced with his younger sister. "And I loved you first as well," he reminded her.

"I don't regret a minute of it," Rose admitted. "Thank you for coming, Scorpius."

And then she was off in the crowd, eager to reunite with her husband. Still, years down the road, no matter how many words either of them used to describe their first love to their spouses—her third love and his second—no one would ever understand the downfall that had been Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy.


End file.
